Peas
by CltcMistress
Summary: When a mission goes horribly wrong, Duo has to deal with the consequences. No matter how hard it may be.
1. Mission: Failed

I don't own Gundam Wing, as much as I wish I did. All I have is pocket lint and an angry cat, so don't sue me.

This is a quick fic in three chapters. The second chapter will be the longest when I've finished it. This was an idea that I had at 2am a while ago and it's finally made it's way to the screen.

Enjoy! And please feel welcome to leave feedback. Any and all responses are more than welcome as both positive and negative feeback helps me to better my writing! Please and Thank You! =)

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He heard the hiss just before he saw it. Heat exploded on his back as the blast carried him off his feet and into the air. Stars exploded behind his eyes as his head hit something sharp on the ground. His arms and legs burned with the smoldering shrapnel that tore through fabric and flesh. What went wrong? He laid the explosives himself. He hadn't hit the trigger, and he hadn't received the signal, the others were still—Oh dear Lord, the others were still inside the building!

He forced himself to his feet and held a scrap of what was left of his shirt to his face. Before he made it three feet, his legs crumpled beneath him and he heard a snap in his left leg. Gritting his teeth, once again he forced himself upward and drug his leg behind him as he searched the rubble for any sign of the other four. All around him the fire raged and he could hear the wails of the dying. He stumbled over a charred and disfigured body as he pulled himself through the remains of the building. Looking all around he searched for any signs of the other four pilots, but all his eyes met were scenes of death and destruction. Nothing could have survived this amount of damage. He shouldn't have survived the explosion. And all signs said the others didn't either.

His head turned when he heard a groan coming from behind him. He held his hopes back and moved as quickly as he could to the source of the sound. Slowly he knelt and flipped the body over. What bit of hair hadn't been burned away was blonde, but the face and clothes were burned beyond recognition.

"Quatre? Oh my God, please buddy, if it's you say something." He felt the tears streaming down his face and choked back the sob at the sight of the man in his arms. Nothing he could say or do could reconcile this amount of destruction in his mind. The mission wasn't supposed to end up like this. Just a few well placed explosions to distract the soldiers while the others hacked the system and retrieved what they needed. Something had gone wrong. He cradled the body and cried as he felt the life leave blonde in his arms. "Quat? Quatre, no!"

Something creaked overhead and he looked up to see what made the sound. The beam overhead groaned as the heat and flame weakened the support post. He scrambled to drag the body out of the way, but there wasn't time. Reconciling with the idea there was no chance to save the body he made a dive to avoid the tumbling beam. His broken leg caught in the rubble and he landed hard, his head cracking against the ground again. His vision went white and he struggled to pull himself up, but found himself pinned. The white spread, engulfing everything before, finally, blackness took him.


	2. Judgement

**NOTE:** Ok, so I kinda changed my mind. This will end up being more than 3 chapters afterall. Once I started really writing, it started flowing. I'm sorry for the short chapter breaks, but there is a reason for each break as it signifies a transition in the story. I am being intentional with this.

Anyways, as I've stated: as much as I wish I did, I in fact, do not own Gundam Wing or any of the characters in it. I do however own this story/plot/whatnot.

For those of you questioning, yes I did put Angst/Humor for a reason. It will make more sense when this is done. Until then...... Speculate, Read and Enjoy!

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Faces danced before him. Taunting and tormenting him in his rest. Why wouldn't they just let him be?

"Because you did this to us."

He turned his head, but everywhere he looked he saw their faces. Covered in blood and plastered with sneers and disapproving glares. No matter how much he tried, and no matter how much he wished he could deny it, they were right. It was his fault. It was all his fault.

Heero glared at him, disgust and hate apparent in the only eye that was clearly visible. The other was missing amid a mess of hair, blood and shrapnel. "You failed the mission, Duo." His lips twisted across the burned face in a mocking sneer.

He winced. The mission was a failure. He was a failure. Heero was right. How could he have let this happen? He should have been more careful when he placed the explosives. He should have ensured they were placed where no one else could have accidently triggered them. He should have—he should have done a lot of things. But no matter how often he went over the mission in his mind, the turnout was the same. He had failed his comrades. He had failed and they were dead. Now they insisted on haunting him in his own death. They couldn't let him rest in peace. Not when he had taken peace from them.

"I'm disappointed in you, Duo. I thought you knew better." The charred and misshapen face of Trowa frowned at him. Only the voice and the ragged remains of brown hair and a torn and bloody turtleneck showed just who visited him to pass judgment this time.

He did know better. He should have known better. He should have been more careful.

_The monitor beeped the increase in heart rate. The broken body of the unconscious pilot stirred slightly. A nurse entered, checked the machines, then scribbled a few notes on the patient's chart and left._

He waited. There were still two more to visit him and condemn him for his failure. Two more souls he had taken carelessly. Two more friends he had disappointed.

This time the Chinese pilot came first. Not surprising. At least the blonde had been found before his death. The others he never saw. He only heard the pained voices of unrecognizable faces and the crackle of the flame amid the destroyed building.

"Maxwell." The voice dripped with hate and disdain. "You dare to call yourself a Gundam Pilot after that mission? Such a pitiful performance." Wufei's face was burned, but it was the missing left arm and shoulder that really showed the damage to the pilot's body. "Open your eyes and face me."

He clenched his eyes tightly shut. He knew there was nothing he could do to avoid his eternal punishment. But that didn't make it any less painful.

"Open your eyes, Duo."

The voice changed. Softer, pleading. That only made it harder. The voice he heard now tugged at him, commanding him to listen in a way the angry lectures of the others didn't. This was the voice he begged to talk to him before the body it belonged to went limp in his arms.

"Open your eyes," Quatre pleaded.

No. He couldn't stand to look at the blackened face. Hadn't he had enough for now? Couldn't they just let him have a bit of peace? No. He didn't deserve it.

"I know you can hear me. Please. Open your eyes."

His resistance flickered and failed. Might as well continue with the eternal punishment he deserved for his failure.

Slowly, his eyes flickered. The light burned from between his eyelashes where before there had been only a pale white haze. Fluorescent lights and cream walls amplified the throbbing in his skull. Pain? He hadn't felt hurt a moment ago. Had they grown tired of tormenting him in one way; had they found a new way to punish him?

"Guys, he's coming to!" The blonde's voice reverberated in his head. "Duo? Duo, can you hear me? Look at me Duo. Open your eyes."

He obeyed. The flawless, blonde face of Quatre leaned over his body. Oh, no. He was right. They had come up with a new way to torture him. And it was so much worse.

His violet eyes locked with a set of teal blue eyes. He gasped as a warm, wet feeling spread in his seat. The smell of urine reached his nose as he realized the full extent of the punishment the souls of his comrades had chosen for him. And it scared the piss out of him.

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Hope ya'll liked this latest little bit. Please feel free to review. Any and all comments are welcome and even encouraged! You've got questions? I might have answers! =) (Bonus points if you name that commercial. LOL)


	3. Seeing Isn't Believing

**Sorry about the long hiatus! Life has been busy! Anyways, here's chapter three for your enjoyment. **

I know this is a short one, but as stated earlier, chapter breaks are at specific points. I suppose you'll just have to keep checking back to see if the next chapter is any longer. =)

As usual, _I don't own GW or the characters_ but the plot **is** mine. (Oh! I guess the nurses and Dr. Hale are mine, too. LOL)

Anyways.... Please, Read and **Enjoy!**

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Duo scooted back and scrambled to put distance between himself and the ghosts before him. "No! NO! Just leave me alone! I'm so sorry!" Tears streamed down his cheeks as he struggled against the IVs and sheets. "Leave me alone! I didn't mean to kill you! Please just let me be! I'm so sorry!"

"Duo! No, it's ok! We're alright!" Quatre held up his hands trying to calm the braided pilot down. The others stood around him, concern etched across their faces. "Calm down, Duo."

Nurses rushed in and pushed past the pilots. "Let me go! They're here! Don't let them get me! NOOO!!!" Two held down the panicked pilot as a third placed a syringe into the IV, injecting something into the drip line. "I didn't mean to kill… sorry…. no." They held him until his struggling ceased and he fell into a drugged slumber.

The doctor walked in, checked the charts and frowned before turning on the four stunned pilots. "You shouldn't have been permitted to remain in the room." He fixed the nurse who was in earlier with a stern look before the three of them exited the room. Turning his attention back to the others he continued. "However, nothing can be done about that now. I'm Dr. Hale, chief neurologist at Mercy Medical. Your friend Mr. Maxwell suffered some serious injuries in his accident. I'm amazed that he even woke at all. With the amount of swelling on his brain we weren't sure he would make it through more than just a few days. He surprised us by lasting these past two weeks."

Heero frowned at the doctor. "Will he make it?"

The doctor glanced back at the charts and the monitors. "That is uncertain at this point. He has signs of considerable damage to the brain. As it is, the sight of you four may have done further damage."

Quatre turned away from Duo to look at the doctor. His voice shook. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that the areas of his brain showing the most significant amounts of damage are those related to memory and reasoning. This means, should he be lucky enough to survive, he may not remember you. My assumption based upon his panic attack when he awoke is that he remembers you well. However, he seems to be under the impression that the four of you were killed in the same accident that caused such trauma. I think it best he not see you until we've been able to determine the full extent of the trauma to his brain."

Wufei left the room with a growl. Trowa gave an apologetic look to the others and followed after. "But he will recover, right?" Quatre's eyes pleaded with the doctor's; searching for some sign of hope.

"I can't be certain. With time and therapy and the right treatment he may regain some of the level of function he had prior to the incident. But there are no guarantees. He may never recover."

Heero nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Hale." He placed a hand on the blonde pilot's shoulder. "Let's go, Quatre. There's nothing we can do here."

"NO! It's Duo! He wouldn't just leave any of us."

"We aren't going to leave him. We'll cover his treatment for as long as he needs it."

Quatre's shoulders sagged as a ragged sigh escaped his lips. "Very well." He turned and walked through the door with Heero. Two nurses slipped past him with clean bed linens and a gown. He watched through the glass of the window. "Hang on, Duo. We're all counting on you to pull through this.

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Ok, now I know some of ya'll are putting this on alert. But unless you leave me some feedback I'm not sure if that's because you like it or you enjoy making fun of it. So please, take the time and drop me a note just to let me know what you think so far. _At this point I'm contemplating making this longer than just the 5 chapters I'm planning right now. But I don't know if there's enough interest. _

**So if you want more, let me know. ^.~**


	4. PTSD

**Standard Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters. Only Drs. Hale, Chambers and other sorts like that. Unfortunately not the G-boys. *insert sad face here* They belong to other people, not me.

_**THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH**_ for all the reviews and shows of support. Some of you have even asked a few questions that got the plot bunnies going. So here's a bit more, with another bit soon to follow. Thanks to you guys, this story is most certainly going to be a bit longer than I originally intended. Anyways, hope you all like this next part!

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Why couldn't they simply leave him alone? He scowled at the door. An attendant shoved a tray through the slot in the middle of the door. "It's time for lunch, Mr. Maxwell." The girl's cheery voice grated his nerves as she slipped a juice box and small cup of pills through the slot next. "Dr. Chambers says if your session goes well today that you'll be allowed to eat in the common room with the others tomorrow." She smiled through the window and waited.

With a growl, he stood and lifted the cup. Damn pills. He hated how they made him feel sluggish and groggy. Popping the straw into the juice box he emptied the cup into his mouth, took a drink, swallowed and opened his mouth to the window. The attendant smiled and nodded before pushing her cart to the next room. Once he was sure she was gone, he spit the pills out and shoved them into the small pocket he'd torn into his pillow. Three days and they still hadn't noticed he'd stopped. Even when someone came to change his bed for laundry, they didn't notice the hole in the pillow. That's what you get for hired help.

Turning his attention to the tray he lifted the plastic spoon and poked at the food. Yum. Mystery meat, mashed potatoes, gravy and peas. He picked up the tray and carried it to his cot to eat. A few bites later he was done. He just wasn't hungry. The remnants of his dream last night still lingered in the back of his mind. Their faces were always the most prominent. Then their voices. Heero and Wufei were first with their scolding and anger. He'd never known how much contempt those two really held for him when they were alive. They'd hid it well. In death, the truth came out. Trowa was quiet: rarely feeling the need to put words to the disappointed look on his face. Quatre was different. At times he would lecture Duo on being more careful with his missions. Other times he would beg Duo to listen. That was when it was the hardest. Why was a dead man begging him in his sleep? He was a captive here and there was nothing he could do to avoid them. So why did Quatre feel the need to plead with him? It was only more torture. That was all he could assume; especially after his incident with the blonde at lunch.

It was the reason he was in here, after all. Somehow the blonde pilot had found a way to reach him during his waking hours. He thought that was the only time he was safe: during the light of day.

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He was eating lunch at a table alone like he did every day since they'd let him leave the damn bed in the hospital a week before. They told him he wasn't completely better so he had to stay with them, but he was allowed to walk around and leave his room. He'd been pushing a pile of Pea Islanders from one side of the tray over to Mt. Potato volcano and into the gravy lava (1) when a voice broke him from his daydream.

"Duo?"

He froze, dropping his fork with a clatter. No. It couldn't be. This was the first time he'd heard that voice during the day. Impossible. Slowly, he turned and looked over his left shoulder. (2) There stood a familiar figure holding a bouquet of daisies. Blue eyes, full of concern, were framed with a halo of blonde hair. Really, did he have to look so angelic in death?

"Duo, it's me. How are you?"

He clamped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. Wasn't it enough that he had to be punished in his sleep? There was nothing he could do to save them now. Why bother him during the day? Maybe if he concentrated hard enough this ghost would go away and wait till night to torment him with the others.

The blonde sat on the bench beside him and placed the flowers on the table. "Hey, it's ok. It's Quatre. Duo, open your eyes, please. I just want to talk with you." A pale hand rested on his left shoulder. That was all it took. He snapped. This was too far for any specter: ghost, demon, angel, or otherwise. He jumped away from the hand and flipped his lunch tray at the figure. "NO! Leave me alone! I didn't mean to kill you, I swear!"

Those brilliant blue eyes went wide as Quatre stood, holding his hands out imploringly. "No, Duo. It's alright!"

"No it's not! You don't belong here! I… I…" He scrambled to back away from the figure, grabbing lunch trays, silverware, anything he could get his hands on and hurling it at his tormenter. "Why can't you just haunt me in my sleep like the others? WHY MUST YOU PUNISH ME MORE?" He screamed at the figure as tears ran down his face. Two large male nurses arrived capturing his arms behind him as he tried to kick free. "Leave me alone!"

Quatre watched, tears in his eyes as he stood helpless to comfort his friend.

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That was when they brought him to this room. They sedated him, and when he awoke he was in a room the size of a bread box with nothing but a cot that he barely fit on and a hole in the door with a panel that slid aside so an attendant could pass him his meals.

With a sigh he stood and carried the tray to the door to wait for the girl to come back for it. She'd frown at how little he ate, but at least they'd stopped force feeding him. She came, took the tray and promised to be back shortly to retrieve him for his session with Dr. Chambers. Great. The head doctor that insisted his dreams were nothing more than simply that, dreams. He pushed away from the door and flopped onto his back on the cot and tucked his arms behind his head. He frowned and scratched at his scalp. Damn it, it itched. He'd been more pissed off than a hellcat in water when he'd learned they had cut his braid off. But who was he to argue with the doctors in the condition he was in at the time? Most of it had been burned off in the fire, anyways. Almost a month after and it was finally looking closer to normal. If you could call short and close to the scalp normal for him. He gave his head another vigorous scratch before rolling to his side, facing away from the door. Maybe he could get a few winks of sleep before the girl came to get him. With any luck he would be able to nap unmolested by those demons of his failures. He closed his eyes, gave a soft prayer, and waited.

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**Author notes:**

**(1)** C'mon, hasn't everyone played with their food at some point or another?

**(2)** Death hangs over your left shoulder.

So what did you all think of this latest chapter? As always, any and all feedback is more than welcome as it helps me know what ya'll wanna read and what I need to do to improve. **Please and Thank You!** =)


	5. Missing Peace

**Disclaimer:** If you haven't figured it out by now, you're crazier than Duo is in this. I don't own the G-boys. Just the story and the various doctors and nurse belong to me.

Thanks to _Foxy McGee _for the plot bunny on this chapter. You know the reference. (Yay for inside jokes!)

And special thanks to my hubby who waited up for me to finish this so he could proof it and help me edit before posting at 2:30am. (And who's the crazy here? LOL)

The chapters are getting a bit longer, yes. But I am still deliberately breaking them at certain spots for transitional reasons. Sorry if it frustrates you to wait for such short bits, but there is a method to my madness. =)

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He fidgeted.

"Duo? Did you hear me?" Dr. Chambers' smile was kind behind the frame of his glasses and steepled fingers.

He looked up. "Yeah."

"Are you going to answer?"

He turned and looked back out the window. He was sick of these damned tests. They made him anxious, having to sit in the overstuffed leather chair across from that desk for two hours each day.

"Duo?"

"I'm fine. Alright? I just want out of this damn place." He'd wanted out from the day that he woke up in the hospital. He wanted out so he could just go on and live out the remainder of his life alone on this damned planet.

"I'm afraid you're not well enough yet, Duo. You are doing so much better, but you still show signs of trauma."

That's what they told him every week. Trauma. Yeah. He'd suffered some serious trauma. He'd killed his friends and held one of them in his arms as the life left the body behind. They kept telling him the voices he heard in his dreams were just in his head. The pills would help. Whatever. He'd stopped taking the pills three days ago and no one had noticed yet. Not even the staff had noticed his stash in the pillow. They didn't help. He still had those dreams. He shuddered and looked out the window, listening to the doctor give him the same lecture he'd received every time he said he wanted out. They didn't see what he did. Hear what he did. The blonde ghost disguised as an angel bearing flowers. The ghost talking to him clear as day. Dr. Chambers was a damned liar. He told him that it was just his friend coming to console him. But Dr. Chambers hadn't seen the way the light struck the top of Quatre's head in a halo that only a spirit could possess. How could that be possible when he'd held Quatre in his arms as he took his dying breath?

"Yeah. Fine." He sighed and continued to look out the window as the doctor scratched more notes in his file. Probably more prescriptions he wasn't going to take. He watched the gardener go by pushing the lawnmower. The boy stopped and took of his hat, wiping his brow with a handkerchief, then turned and glanced at the building. He froze. No! Cold blue eyes met his own from under a messy mop of brown hair.

"NO!" The word was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. So much for his charade of convincing Dr. Chambers he was ok. He scrambled over the arm of the chair and toward the door where he pounded at the wood paneling. "Get away from me!" He whirled around and pressed his back to the door and stared wide-eyed at the window. But the figure was gone. "Don't let him come near me!"

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He groaned as he woke up on a familiar cot in a familiar bland colored bread box of a room. Of course they'd drugged him and brought him back here. The sound of the slot sliding open roused him from the dreamy state. At least sedated, his dreams were closer to normal. Simple memories and illusions as opposed to the punishing glares and lectures of his fallen friends.

"Oh, Mr. Maxwell. I was hoping your session with Dr. Chambers would have gone better. What happened?" The same stupid bright-eyed and bushy-tailed girl smiled at him through the window as she pushed his lunch tray in. "Well, at least you woke up for lunch. Nancy said you missed breakfast this morning. I'm glad to see you're awake now."

He pushed himself up and took the cup of pills and juice box. As he had before, he cheeked them when he swallowed, spitting them out and placing them in his pillow when she had moved to the next cell. Picking up the tray he walked to his cot and sat and stared at the meal. Fish sticks, apple sauce and peas. Again with the damned peas. Was there some overabundance of peas in the kitchen that they had to get rid of?

He let his mind wander as he pushed the sticks into shapes. He couldn't help but smirk as the shapes took on the look of attack formations he and the others had used in combat. Five fish sticks. Five soldiers. The apple sauce smeared into lovely images of blood and guts strewn over the battle field. He found himself counting out his peas, next. "Hmm….." That didn't work. He counted again and frowned. Damnit!

With a growl he threw his juice box and silverware at the glass on his door. "JANET!" He scowled at the splattered grape juice as it ran down the door, making a grotesque and mocking face at him.

The girl's green eyes appeared through the glass as she saw the mess he'd made. "Mr. Maxwell? Is something wrong?"

He grinned as he walked closer to the door and leaned his forehead against the glass. "Janet."

"Yes, Mr. Maxwell?"

He dropped his eyes from hers and stared at his feet. "There are only 32."

"Excuse me? What are there only 32 of?"

"My peas." His hand shot through the slot in the door and he took hold of the front of her uniform, pulling her closer to the window. Her hands wrapped around his wrist as a look of shock registered on her face. "There are only 32 peas on my tray. I want 57."

"Let me go!" She shrieked and another attendant rushed over and tried to pry his hand from Janet's uniform.

"I WANT 57 PEAS! 57! I want 57!" He screamed through the glass and shook her until two large male nurses arrived and pried his fingers from the fabric. "Do you hear me!? Next time I want 57 peas on my damn tray!" He continued to shriek the number at her over and over, even after they had opened the door and forced him to the floor. Still struggling he screamed. "Peas! I want 57 peas!"

Distantly he felt a prick in the crook of his arm. Then, nothing as blackness took him again.

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Ya'll still along for this ride with me? I hope you have your seat belts fastened, 'cause it's a bit bumpy.

As always, any and all comments and feedback is more than welcome. Your reviews help me improve, as well as give me more ideas to carry this story further. So feel free to drop a review. _Comments, Questions and Critiques all welcome._ **Please and Thank you!**


	6. No More Monkeys

**Disclaimer: I don't own GW. Sad, but true. **But I do own the other non-GW characters as well as the plot.

Ya'll still with me? =) Sorry about the long break, but I've been busy busy busy! Anyways, here's the next bit of the story. I do feel it important to note that I hope none of you take me as an expert on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, mental conditions or any of the such. What I know is the little bits I've looked up and done small amounts of research for. So if something's not 100% correct protocol for dealing with the mentally traumatized or whatever, sorry. Consider it my use of author liberties and I can fudge my way through. *grin* Just nod and go with it for now, K?

Anyways, read and enjoy!

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The fire consumed everything. Except him. Some might consider him a lucky bastard for that fact. He saw it differently. He heard the cries of pain from those who weren't lucky enough to die in the initial blast. He saw the burned and broken bodies of those fortunate enough to have given up the ghost quickly. As a survivor, and after what he'd been dealing with, he knew Lady Luck was not on his side.

"_Failure." _

"_Disappointment."_

"_Worthless."_

"_Coward."_

Their words and faces taunted him from behind closed eyelids. They had every right to be angry with him. Their accusations were true. He deserved everything they threw at him. That and so much more. So many things he should have done differently. So many things he should have said differently. So many things he should have, could have, would have. Would have if he had the chance. But he'd taken their chance away. What right did he have to wish for another of his own? None.

The fire continued to burn him long after the heat had gone and he woke from his dream in a cold sweat. It burned in his throat and in his mind. The voices echoed in his head as the flames consumed them.

"Five little monkeys jumping on the bed…" He chuckled as opened the chamber on the revolver he'd managed to swipe from one of the soldiers escorting him from a "session" with his interrogator back to his cell. "One fell off and lost his head." They must have found him laying there holding Quatre's body and kept him alive to torment him. Not much longer.

"Four little monkeys jumping on the bed…" He slid a bullet into place and rotated to the next open slot. "One fell off and lost his head." It wouldn't be much longer at all. No.

"Three little monkeys jumping on the bed…" He smiled at the thought of what waited him on the other side. "One fell off and lost his head." Most people wouldn't look forward to what waited him. Another bullet and he turned to the next space.

"Two little monkeys jumping on the bed…" Most people weren't known as the God of Death, though. Besides, nothing could compare to the hell on earth that he'd been dealing with. "One fell off and lost his head." One last bullet slipped into place as he closed the chamber and released the safety. He wouldn't need that many, but he'd rather be prepared for the chance that one wasn't enough for Death's right hand man.

"One little monkey jumping on the bed. He fell off and lost his head." He chuckled as he lifted the weapon to his head and closed his eyes. Soon enough he'd be on the same side of the veil as his tormenters. Let them continue his torture in hell. "No more monkeys jumping on the bed." He sighed and pulled the trigger.

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Janet looked at Nancy and shook her head. "Such a shame. I thought he was doing so much better. Now we'll have to put him on suicide watch."

Nancy nodded her head in agreement. "That means no more silverware. He'll have to go without his 57 peas for a while." She sighed as the man with short brown hair giggled to himself and filled the spoon with peas before flipping them into his temple.

"Five little monkeys jumping on the bed…"

The two of them turned away from the door and continued collecting trays from the other patients frowning as Mr. Maxwell started his twisted nursery rhyme over again and began loading a new spoonful of peas.

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Dr. Chambers closed the door as the last of them entered. "Thank you all for taking the time to come in and speak with me." He stepped around the four to take his seat behind the desk, indicating the others to do the same.

"Hn. No trouble. How is he doing?" Heero frowned as he took a seat in one the two leather chairs beside Quatre. Trowa and Wufei opted to stand.

"Much better since the incident three weeks ago. We moved him to a new room and he has become more responsive in his therapy sessions. He has also begun consistently taking his medications since the move. This seems to have contributed to the improvement of his condition." The doctor flipped through some pages on the file making notes as he went. "He's still on suicide watch as a result of the event one of our nurses reported, but he is still showing excellent signs of improvement."

Quatre smiled. "Does this mean we can visit him again soon?" He looked hopeful, but Wufei placed a hand on his shoulder and looked down at the blonde. "Remember the last time, Winner. We don't want to risk setting him back."

"Well, as a matter of fact, that would be part of why I called you all to come here today. I'd like to discuss the option of a supervised visit with him." He rested his elbows on the desk and looked at the boys over his fingers. "During his therapy sessions, both I and my colleague Dr. Fargus have been working to explain to him what happened. He still has some trouble comprehending. We attribute this to the brain trauma from the accident. He still seems confused when we discuss you four with him. He has it in his mind that you four are dead. There are days that he seems hopeful that you are alive, but then some days he's angry and unwilling to accept that fact. We hope that with some supervision, having you visit with him after he has taken his medications will help us to convince him of the truth."

"And you're certain this won't have any negative repercussions on his progress if we were to meet with him?" Trowa raised his eyebrow in question.

"Unfortunately, there are no true certainties in matters such as this. However, we are doing the best we can. The best I can tell you is that this is a tactic that Dr. Fargus and I would like to attempt."

Heero nodded. "We will do whatever you believe is best for Duo's recovery." The others nodded in agreement.

Dr. Chambers smiled. "Excellent. I have a few more things to discuss, and I know Dr. Fargus would like to meet with you as well to discuss Mr. Maxwell's progress. Then we'll all see what seems to be the best course of action and if this is an option we wish to pursue further."

Quatre beamed at the doctor. "Whatever it takes, we'll do it."

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Well? Doozy, huh? Thanks to some of you for feeding the plot bunnies for this chapter. Keep the input coming if you've got a question or something you'd like to see or know about. =) (And just to make matters clear, yes the meeting with Dr. Chambers is about 2 1/2 weeks after the peas to the brain scene.)

**As always, any and all comment/criticism/critiques are welcome.** (Encouraged even!) They help me improve and help me develop the story further as well. So drop a review and let me know what you think. **Please and_ Thank You!_**

**_EDIT: _**Seeing as I posted this originally at close to 1:30am for me, I had to come back and make a few quick changes to some things that didn't sit right with me in the light of day.


	7. Hallucinations and Hellcakes

Thank you all for being patient with me! I promise I haven't forgotten about this story! I had a birthday Monday (Foxy wrote me a fic! Go check it out. It's called **Lemon with a Lemon** and it's great! What a friend.... ^.^ ), then on Tuesday my car Baby went to the shop for a $400 repair to my alternator. BLAH! Anyways, here's the next bit.

Just in case you don't know for sure, _**I don't own GW or the boys.**_ Sad. But the other various doctors and nurses are mind. So is the plot.

Anyways, read and enjoy!

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He'd been in this place for months now. For the past two months they'd been discussing his friends during their sessions. The source of his nightmares had become the source of his 'therapy.' The nightmares came with less frequency, and thanks to the stupid meds, he had begun to feel more like himself. Like he'd been pulled in so many directions and was finally getting himself pulled back together. Then his docs had dropped a bomb on him. They asked if he'd like to see his friends again. His response had been an immediate "NO!" The dead don't walk the earth. That there was no chance in Hell the others were alive. But both Dr. Chambers and Dr. Fargus were adamant during his sessions that his friends were in fact alive. And they'd been right about giving the meds a chance.

He still just wasn't sure he believed them that his friends were ok. He had held Quatre's body in his arms. Hadn't he? There was no way anyone else made it out of that building alive. Even for being Death's right hand man, he shouldn't have survived. Even he had been known to be wrong. Still….

"Duo. Are you still ok with this meeting?"

He turned away from the window and looked at Dr. Fargus sitting in the chair across the room. "Yeah. I guess if you say it's going to help me somehow. Whatever." He rolled his eyes and returned to staring out the window. He was willing to believe the docs, but he also wouldn't be surprised to see some stranger walk in. Likely that if the others had survived, they had left him rather than risk being found out.

Dr. Fargus stood and gave him one last look. "Alright then." He crossed the room and opened his door, motioning for someone to enter. "One of you may come in." The doctor stood just inside the room as mumbling and shuffling could be heard just outside the door.

He kept his eyes focused on the window, watching the birds working on the nest they'd just started in the tree. Absently he traced circles on the arm of the chair as he waited.

"Maxwell?" He hesitated in his fidgeting and sat up straighter. "Maxwell. You know we've been worried about you."

He turned slowly and looked at the source of the voice. He found his throat was suddenly too dry as he took in the sight before him. No way. It had to be another hallucination. Right?

"You look like you've seen a ghost." He had. And it was standing there talking to him.

"Yeah. He's standing there in that stupid white outfit and those black ballet shoes. Decide to drop by on your way to a dance recital?" He couldn't help the smirk that crept across his face as the words slipped from his lips.

The Chinese boy's eyebrow twitched for a second before his face regained it's composure. "Well at least I didn't give a pair of safety scissors to a child and let him have his way with my head."

He couldn't help but laugh. It felt good to laugh. It sounded strange, considering it had been months since he could remember laughing. But damn had he missed the sound.

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He smiled around the table at the faces surrounding him. Chuckling to himself he looked back at his tray and pushed the peas into a circle around the mound of mashed potatoes.

"How do you eat this? I thought circus food was bad!" Trowa scowled at his tray before tossing his napkin over the food in disgust. Heero nodded in agreement. It had been weeks since he had first been able to see them. That had been hard and his dreams since then had been confused. But each day got easier.

He grinned at his food sculpture before looking back at the others. "You haven't complained for the past couple Wednesdays you've visited."

"I was being poli- OW!" The tall pilot glared at Quatre. "That was my shin."

Quatre flashed one of his innocent grins and looked back at him. "Well it's not much longer that you have to put up with this stuff. Dr. Chambers said you would be able to come home in about two more weeks."

He smiled. He could practically count down the hours until he was free of this place. He was so close he could almost taste it. "The first thing I'm doing when I get out of here is getting a steak. Then I want fries, a milkshake, one of those huge burritos from that little hole-in-the-wall shop around the corner. And I want donuts and ice cream and Hell-cakes. Ooh, yeah! Hell-cakes sound amazing!" He mocked wiping drool from his cheek and laughed with the others who smiled at him.

"Only you would find pancakes covered in peanut butter and drenched in syrup that appetizing, Duo." Heero snickered and surrendered the fight with his meal as well.

Quatre smiled at all of them and subtly pushed his tray away from him. "We've already stocked most of the cabinets for you to get back. And there's a full stock of potato chips and snack cakes waiting for you. No more peas or unidentifiable pieces of meat."

"Praise the Lord and pass the gravy!" He smiled and jammed his fork in the middle of the potato sculpture.

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We're coming in on the close now. One more chapter left... Hope you all have enjoyed the story so far! Please feel free to leave some love, or hate if ya feel. _Feed the plot bunnies._ I've got another fic brewing in the works. So if you've enjoyed my writing so far, please let me know what you've enjoyed and what you've hated so I know what you want to see.


	8. Carrots

Hey guys! Thank you all for being so patient in waiting for the end of this. I know it's not as long as some of you hoped. But this is what I got. Duo and I had a long, knock-down, drag-out fight over this ending and finally reached an agreement. So here it is. =)

**Disclaimer: I don't own GW. Just the plot, docs and sorts of stuff like that. The boys aren't mine, sad story.**

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_His head turned when he heard a groan coming from behind him. He moved as quickly as he could to the source of the sound. Slowly he knelt and flipped the body over. What bit of hair hadn't been burned away was blonde, but the face and clothes were burned beyond recognition. _

"_Quatre? Oh my God, please buddy, if it's you say something." He felt the tears streaming down his face and choked back the sob at the sight of the man in his arms. _

His eyes snapped open and he jerked upward with a gasp. "No! No." It wasn't Quatre. No. The body he held hadn't been that of the blonde pilot. It was some enemy soldier caught in the explosion. Another victim of the accident. Wiping sweat from his brow, he looked around his room and saw everything was as it should be; the clock on his nightstand flashed 3:05AM. "Just a dream." He was in the safe-house with the others. Quietly, he slipped down the hall and into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He turned the knob on the cold water and splashed his face, watching the water swirl down the drain.

"It wasn't him. They weren't there," he told his reflection. "They weren't in the building."

***Flashback***

He pushed the peas around, lining them up in neat little rows along the edge of their section of the tray. He smiled to himself as he listened to his friends talk.

"You see, we weren't in the building when it blew. We hadn't anticipated the computers being shifted during the construction. So while we had planned on using that construction project as a cover for the explosion, we no longer had that option." Trowa folded his arms and leaned back in his seat. "We didn't have time to tell you about the change."

Quatre nodded in agreement. "Wufei and I were on lookout as they took care of the computers when we heard the explosion. We hadn't received the signal yet so we knew something was wrong. When we saw you lying under that beam we really thought you were dead."

He chuckled at the blonde. "Really? Nothing could kill me! I'm the God of Death. I go when I say I go." He smiled and returned to pushing the peas around.

***End Flashback***

Haunted eyes reflected back as he stared at his reflection and scratched the back of his head. His hair itched as it grew back out. He made a mental note to get it trimmed or something soon; he didn't like the way it currently resembled Heero's own shaggy mop. Turning the water off, he reached for a towel and dried his face. "It was a dream," he told his reflection one more time before returning to his room. "Everything is ok." He checked to make sure he hadn't tossed his pills off his nightstand when he was thrashing about.

The notebook on his desk rest open and he crossed the room to retrieve it and a pen. With a sigh he flopped onto his bed and started writing the dream down. Something his therapist told him to do. Every time he had another bad nightmare, or something set off a panic attack, he was to write it down and discuss it at their next session. So far it had helped. Though having to relive each experience as he took it from memory and put it to paper was starting to wear on him. Things were returning to normal. At least, that is, as normal as they could be. Some of the things in his notebook were scars he would carry for the rest of his life. The memories. The nightmares. Some were things he had hopes of overcoming. Like jumping over the back of the couch when the fan in the hallway suddenly turned on. Or wigging out when Wufei's stir fry caught fire and set off the smoke alarm. A small grin crept over his face at that memory. He'd been out of the house and halfway down the street when Trowa caught him and told him to calm down.

He finished off the entry, noted the date and time, then closed the book. After a moment he reopened the book to a page near the beginning. One of his first memories of coming back to the safe-house with the others.

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"No, really. I want to. It's been ages, and I want to make dinner!" He folded his arms over his chest and glared at Wufei who stood in a very similar position across the counter from him. Heero shook his head at the scene and left the room without a word.

"You just got home."

"Exactly. So, I'm cooking!"

Whatever response had been on the Chinese pilot's lips was silenced when Trowa placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let him." Wufei frowned, but nodded and left the room, muttering something under his breath.

Quatre couldn't help the snicker at Wufei before smiling at Duo. "Well, I'll be down the hall if you need anything. You remember where everything is. Besides, I love the way you make that blackened chicken. I can't wait."

He beamed with success when they had finally left him in the kitchen alone. It was no secret that the doctor had told them to keep an eye on him for any more potential suicide attempts. But he couldn't hold it against them. They were just looking out for him.

A happy tune whistled over his lips as he moved about the kitchen, laying out all the necessary ingredients. Boneless skinless chicken breasts, bread crumbs, parmesan cheese, paprika, eggs. Once he had the breasts coated in the spiced bread and cheese mixture, he panned them, blackened each side and then placed them in a dish in the oven to finish.

"Now. Veggies. I've got the mash-taters going. Gravy is last….." He opened the cabinet where the canned vegetables were kept and about lost it. His smile twitched as he stared at the cans.

Carrots.

Cans upon cans of carrots stared back at him.

Not a single can of peas. Not one.

Calmly, he closed the doors to the cabinets and walked down the hall to the study where Wufei sat in a chair reading.

"You cook. I started the chicken. It'll be done in ten. You finish."

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He smirked as he closed the notebook. The good came with the bad in the notebook. The memory of Quatre explaining to him that Heero bought carrots when reminded that he didn't like peas made him chuckle. However the memory of eating carrots for weeks made him shudder.

Yeah. It was good to be home.

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There ya go. The end! Thanks all for reading. Please feel more than free to leave comments and feedback.

And check back soon for my next project. It'll be interesting, rest assured. =P


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